


Velvet Swamps and Magic Umbrellas

by Thealien



Series: Amari [1]
Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Pre-Canon, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-09
Updated: 2020-06-09
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:14:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24617413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thealien/pseuds/Thealien
Summary: Asra left on a journey, but didn't water-proof his tent before he did. But Amari's there for a helpful hand and a totally no-meaning-behind-it offer.Pre-relationship fluffFeaturing Amari, the nonbinary AFAB apprentice
Relationships: Apprentice/Asra (The Arcana)
Series: Amari [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1150271
Kudos: 11





	Velvet Swamps and Magic Umbrellas

Amari drags one hand down their face with a groan. Their right arm is numb, practically dead from their fingers all the way up, except for the dull ache in their shoulder. But it’s fine, they can bear it. They glance up, to check that it’s still there, hanging aloft in the air, and then they close their eyes again.

They can do this. They had to, now, they were committed. Too tired after however many hours it’s been to try a new plan, so it’s magic umbrella or bust.

Amari shifts into a slightly more comfortable position in the chair and rests their head back. They listen to the pouring rain outside and try not to think about the dark spots lurking in their periphery.

Asra rushes. He hadn’t redone the waterproofing spells on the tent before he left; Amari had told him to, said that rain was coming, and he _forgot_. Remembered right when he reached the desert but, really, what were the odds it would rain while he was gone? It was only a week, after all, and since when could _Amari_ predict the weather?

_Wet!_ Faust is delighted, as per usual, and if he wasn’t worried about his things, he’d be too.

His trunk is spelled and that should hold; enchantments don’t need recasting. And all of his most important belongings—his parents’ books and the couple of remnants of childhood he couldn’t part with—were safe with Muriel. But what of the trinkets he’d been amassing, getting ready for the next festival? And the other books; he knew he left some out but couldn’t remember what.

Not to mention that he’d been gone a _week_ ; it’s raining now but is this the first storm? Or just one of many?

Is his tent even still _intact_?

_Asra?_ Faust questions, tightening her grip around his shoulders, as he rockets down alleys. _Rain!!_

“After we check on our tent, Faust.” Asra mutters.

Her grumbling assent quickly morphs into hissing laughter as he splashes through a large puddle, soaking them both. Not that they weren’t already drenched through, but he shivers at the cold liquid.

Asra comes ‘round the final twist and then skids to a stop in surprise at seeing his tent absolutely fine… and encased in a bubble-like waterfall. He stares.

_Friend?_ Faust tilts her head and then looks back at him.

He reaches out with his senses and then nods, slowly. He can feel Amari’s magic concentrated on the roof to form a shimmering shield. A surge of warmth rushes through him and he tries to shake off the smile as he heads towards the tent.

Of course they were looking out for him.

The waterfall parts at his touch and he passes through, pausing only to cast a quick drying spell. He finds Amari sitting at his table, feet curled under them, in his seat. They’ve one hand up to the ceiling, directing a steady thrum of magic, and their head is slumped on the other. Faust makes a beeline for them while Asra hesitates, smile dimming.

They look exhausted. Their face is strained, even in their current doze, and he can feel the wavering of their magic. But the tent is entirely intact; he had been expecting to come home to a velvet swamp. Faust, unseen, winds her way up the chair leg and then into their lap.

“AH—oh.” They swallow their startle and smile tiredly down at the snake. “Faust! How’s my best girl? Liking the rain?”

_Wet!_ Faust delights and Amari scratches her head.

They lean back to stretch and when they look up, they freeze. Asra lifts a hand in greeting and a wide grin splits their face.

“Asra! Guess who’s always right?”

The opportunity to tease apparently rejuvenates them and he shakes his head, sheepish.

“I forgot to redo the waterproofing.” He admits and their eyes glitter. “Thank you.”

“Thank me _after_ you redo your spells. And…” Their gaze shifts to the table. “After you check these books. I did my best, but I needed to save my magic. Wasn’t sure when you’d be ho- back.”

He nods and crosses the tent to hold out a hand for Faust. She nuzzles Amari’s face, getting another smile, and then slithers up him. He can feel Amari’s eyes on his back as he moves to the corner of the room and takes a deep breath. He puts them out of mind, for now, as he focuses on his spell work.

_No more wet?_ Faust is almost sad and his lips quirk.

It’s not a hard spell, just a little tedious, and within a few moments he’s back to Amari. He nods at the questioning look they give him and their hand drops from the air like a rock. The ceiling buckles for a moment, rain suddenly pounding, but it holds strong against the downpour. They groan as they massage their shoulder, working out the tense muscle.

“What time is it? Feels like I’ve been holding that for _ever_.”

“A few hours before sundown before sundown.” He answers and they blink.

“…Well, that explains why I’m starving. It started raining not long after sunup!”

Asra gapes at them as they push to their feet. They wobble and he darts forward, steadying them, and finds his voice.

“You’ve been sitting here _all day_?” They mutter something under their breath and he gives them a light shake. “Wha- Have you eaten?!”

“‘Course. Pretty much everything in my bag. Stole the tea you left too… Didn’t like it.”

No guilt to them and he is torn between laughing and shaking them harder. But they take a step forward, pushing into him, and then he has to hug them, instead.

“Me either. Couldn’t even finish the mug... And I had it fresh.”

They laugh and Faust clambers around them both, curling in her own hug, while he tries to find words again.

They sat here, alone, in the storm, for _hours_ , for him. Just to protect his things. And he hadn’t told them when he’d be back! Was Amari planning on just sitting there? To outlast the storm, somehow?

Amari nuzzles into his neck like Faust does when she’s sleepy and he shivers at the cool touch. They’re always affectionate, free with hugs and contact, but right now he suspects they just want to steal some body heat. He wraps around them tighter and they fairly purr as he washes his magic over them.

They’re so glad he’s back. And not just because sitting in an empty tent, by themselves, was possibly the most agonizingly dull thing they’d ever done. They bury their face into him and try not to sigh _too_ contentedly as they soak in his presence.

“I… Should probably go. Let you get unwound from your adventure.” They breathe, barely audible, after several long minutes.

Asra honestly thought that they had fallen asleep. But apparently not, as Amari starts to pull away. He lets them go, but his hands linger, drifting down their arms until he catches their hands instead. They smile crookedly down at the joined hands.

“Just gonna freshen up, Asra. Oh, and get dinner. Hot food.”

“Can I join you?” The question is out before he even considers it and he flushes. “After all, I _do_ owe you for keeping my tent safe.” They roll their eyes.

“Pft, don’t worry about that. If people hear my fortune teller can’t predict a simple storm, then they’ll lose all faith in the shop.” Teasing, again, and he laughs.

“Alright, then how about for saving my business?” They slip out of his grip and flash a grin, walking backwards.

“Pretty sure our businesses are pretty entwined these days, but I just remembered I _really_ need the bathroom, so let’s argue later.”

There’s a hint of color to their cheeks, embarrassment, and he waves a hand as he stifles a smile. The sound of rain gets louder for a second when they open the tent and then he’s alone.

Asra’s not going to make fun of them for that, not when it’s his fault they wasted an _entire day_ correcting his mistake. His attention turns to the books on the table. Just two of them, a bestiary and a rather tattered one on palm reading. Replaceable, if hard to find, but they just seem damp. Amari probably didn’t get out here right when it started raining. He flips through, not concerned, and finds that a few of the images are a little blurry, where the ink ran. He waves his hand over and the image sharpens, ink returning to its proper place. He nods. 

Easy enough to fix, then, so he’ll bother with it later.

_Rain? Or friend?_ Faust questions and he looks to her.

“I’m going to make some dinner for Amari, but you can go play in the rain if you want, Faust.” She flicks her tongue up at him and he feels oddly… scrutinized.

_Rain!_

She sends him a sensation of knowing amusement before slithering off and he shakes his head at her snakey-judgement. He quickly shucks his adventuring gear and then steps out into the downpour. Luckily, it’s barely twenty steps to the backdoor of the shop and he slips inside, waving his hand to dismiss the water again.

It’s always odd to see their old room like this, empty. Just the cot, bookshelves, and some forgotten boxes. But they live upstairs now, after Are- Asra takes in a slow breath, feeling a slight tightness in his chest. Well, Areli would have been entirely unimpressed at the notion of Amari _not_ taking her room. Probably would’ve cuffed the back of both their heads; theirs for being a sentimental fool and his for not talking them out of it. He half-smiles, easily remembering her scoff, and then sighs.

He shakes off the thought, letting go of that still twinging pain, and makes his way through the door and up the stairs. He can hear Amari, down the hall along with splashing water and a distant cheerful song that he can’t quite pick out words of, and smiles. He moves to the kitchen and sets down his bag. 

“Could you light the fire please?” Asra asks quietly and the salamander clicks, a fire springing to life.

He grabs two pots and sets them on the stove. He kneels down to dig through the pantry, considering the options, and hears footsteps.

“Any requests?” He asks when they stop, glancing over his shoulder.

“For you to cook.” Amari replies, delighted, and his lips quirk at the predictable answer. “I’ve eaten _so much_ stew, Asra.”

“Isn’t that your favorite?”

He turns away to pull out the large sack of rice and starts scooping it into the pot.

“Sure, for the first three meals. Gets old fast.”

He hears the squeak of protesting furniture and looks up to see them flopped onto the bed, facedown. They lift a hand up and he frowns as he senses their magic reaching out. A vial from one of the kitchen shelves arcs through the air and smacks into their hand.

“Shouldn’t you be resting?” Asra says and they push up on an elbow.

They make pointed eye contact with him, uncork the bottle, and stare him down as they drain it. Then they grin at his disapproval.

“Don’t need sleep if you’ve got the right potions.” His eyes narrow on them and they raise a hand, placating. “But that was it on magic, tonight. Gonna eat whatever delicious thing you make and then try and convince you to stay and cuddle, and _then_ go back to being terribly irresponsible.”

They curl up in bed, snuggling a pillow to their chest, and he can’t help a smile at that. It’s a comfortable silence then; the only sounds are the crackle of the fire and the various noises of cooking—the spoon scraping the pan, water bubbling away, and the occasional sizzle. They watch him, eyes lidded, and as the moments pass, those eyes drift shut.

Then reopen, cheeks blushing immediately, when he sets a hand on their shoulder.

“M’awake!” Amari nearly shouts, blinking quickly, and he tries not to laugh. “Wasn’t asleep.”

Asra offers them a plate piled high and they take it, scooting to the side and ducking their head from his eyes. They stifle a yawn, smothering it with the back of their hand. 

“Fried rice and grilled cactus. Nopal had a good harvest this season.” Asra says as he slides next to them, letting them keep their pretense.

“Smells amazing.”

Amari scoops up a mouthful, makes a pleased sound complete with fluttering eyelids, and then starts shoveling food in.

He feels warm with the nonverbal praise; he can sense the remaining trickles of their magic slipping against his and through that, their bone-deep contentment. He takes a bite and considers it.

It’s good, not quite as good as someone in Nopal would make it, but a decent facsimile. Amari wouldn’t have any frame of reference for food outside Vesuvia, so he doesn’t feel any particular need to correct their impression of him being anything other than a decidedly alright cook.

They eat in silence for a few minutes before he senses Amari’s eyes on him. When he looks up, there’s that familiar, playful light flickering.

“What would it take to hire you as my personal chef?”

The usual game. His reply is just as quick.

“What are you offering?”

Amari hums in consideration and he takes another bite, waiting for their newest outlandish proposal. Last time it had been a lifetime supply of hugs.

“Well, I _was_ thinking that you should take my old room, but that’s just logistics… Oh, how about my undying love and adoration?”

They bat their eyelashes at him and he swallows wrong, choking. They laugh as they thump him on the back, more out of camaraderie than any true helpfulness. He manages to clear his throat and gives himself a mental shake.

“Your old room?” Asra questions, feeling his ears burning, and they nod, a smile still turning their lips as they resume eating.

They’ve just about finished their plate, but their hunger is settling now.

“I know you’ve got the whole ‘wandering magician, independent and free’ thing going, but you _could_ be a wandering magician with a whole room for… whatever you want? The bed’s still there, or we could toss it and you could do readings, or just use it as a storeroom.”

Amari was right earlier, their respective work had become pretty entangled… Areli had been his main buyer for herbs for years and Amari’s idea of selling his trinkets through the shop has been a rousing success. The Masquerade booth always did brisk business, but working with Amari provided a much more stable, steady income than just trying to ration out festival pay. At this point, his tented booth was just for storage, tarot readings. and providing a backdrop for magic shows. Just a token separation between his work and theirs, honestly.

But this doesn’t _feel_ like a business offer. There’s an undercurrent, something hidden but not well, in the slight stiffness of their shoulders, even though they offer him a cheerful, easy smile.

“Are you asking me to move in?” Asra asks and they go redder than he’d ever seen them.

“No! Well, yes, but, I,” Their teeth flash in the candlelight as they force a tight smile. “Wow, isn’t magical burnout just… wild?” 

Asra’s eyebrows have disappeared into his hairline while Amari strangles back the torrent of words that nearly escaped. Damn him for calling their bluffed bravado. But he waits, patient, while they struggle through their rather unexpected panic. Asra is their friend; there is no need for their heart to be racing like they’re a kid asking their crush to dance. He’ll say yes or no and it’ll be fine.

They ignore the crushing feeling at the thought of his saying _no_ and open their mouth.

“Trying that one again, yes, Asra, I am offering for you to move in.”

They can’t quite muster the ability to hold his gaze once the words are out, so they drop down to their plate. They stir their food idly, waiting.

Asra sets down his fork to think it over. It would make sense; his tent is hardly the best for long term storage. It’d only been up continuously like this for a few months now and already it’s looking haggard. But his things would easily fit and still leave plenty of room for a reading table. He could even keep their old cot, just drape a curtain in front of it for privacy, and then he could sleep here if he needed to. The long walk between the city and the forest was fine—enjoyable, even, in the warm months—but the weather is capricious at best in the wintertime.

Amari fidgets as the moments pass. He’s not speaking, just has his head tilted thoughtfully, and they can barely stay still. They should’ve waited ‘til tomorrow to offer, when they might’ve had a chance at sounding sensible, but they’ve been thinking about it all day.

How is it taking him this long to decide? They’d just be moving all the tent-things fifteen feet forward into the shop. Yes or no, or even just ‘let me think about it’, just say _something_. Words bubble in their chest and they open their mouth, unable to bear the silence any longer. 

“I was just thinking it might make sense ‘cause, uh, you remember when you got hurt, with that hydra? The customers really liked being able to get a quick reading, here at the shop. Having you so close is great, but from a, um, business-”

“Are you sure?” He interrupts their anxious tirade and they blink.

“Asra, the only time I go in there is when I don’t feel like walking around the shop to get to the alley. It, ah. It doesn’t need to _mean_ anything. Just... If you want.”

It means something and Amari knows it; he probably does too but with any luck he won’t say anything. But living here _alone_ has been nothing short of maddening. ‘Hello no one, goodnight no one, hope I don’t die in my sleep, no one’. Even if he spends three weeks out of a month out adventuring—and he will, they know this, they could no more tame his wandering spirit than they could bind the ocean (and only a monster would want either). But getting just a little more of him, having him _home_ , properly, might be enough to keep them sane. He’s only been back for an hour and already they feel so much calmer.

The past ten minute’s panic notwithstanding.

“It, you know what, it’s yours now. And I’m the boss, so, hah!”

They jam rice in their mouth so they can’t say anything _else_ and pretend to study the cluttered bookcase on the other end of the room. Their face is on fire, but it’s fine, because now it’s Asra’s problem.

His lips quirk and he reaches out to wrap his arm around their shoulders. Their aura is jittery, twitching nervously, and he squeezes them in a sideways hug. He follows their gaze to the bookcase, where a half-dozen statuettes are scattered amongst a lifetime of knickknacks and shiny things.

The idea of taking over the backroom is more and more appealing as he thinks about it. Muriel won’t have to come into the city to check on his booth, he could see Amari more, and he wouldn’t need to worry about storing anything he found on his adventures. He could actually move some of the things he kept at the hut here; Muriel didn’t say anything but Asra knew he didn’t like the clutter. The hut was small enough without all of Asra’s things piled everywhere.

Not to mention the few weeks he had lived here, half a year ago—had it really been that long already? Amari had shared their bedroom, giving up their bed without a second’s hesitation, and took care of him. It had felt like _family_ , near the end, when they would all eat dinner together. A quiet affair, but warm, and he squeezes them again. 

“Alright, _boss_. Wouldn’t want to get fired.”

The tension is still there, an awkward tang hanging in the air, but they both just eat around it. Asra carefully balances his plate on his lap, wanting to keep the contact with Amari, and they lean into him. They finish first, as per usual, and scooch down the bed to curl around him more comfortably.

Their blush has subsided somewhat, no longer burning a furious red, and they cozy up to him with a soft sigh. He sets his plate atop theirs on the nightstand and then they snag his hand, giving him a gentle tug in question.

They hardly needed to; he’d no plans to leave them alone. He slides smoothly down the bed to pull them properly into his embrace. Amari smiles, eyes closed, as he guides them to rest their head against his chest, their legs tangling together. Their hand brushes along his waist to settle at his side, fingers idly trailing, and then they sigh, pleased.

“Better?” He asks, feeling a familiar sweet ache in his chest.

They nod, tickling his chin with their hair, and he strokes their back. He watches as they start losing their fight against exhaustion; whatever potion they’d taken had given them precisely the energy they needed to get food in their belly and not a drop more. Even their normally-restless aura relaxes, settling around the pair like a metaphysical blanket.

The shop is warm and the rain patters against the roof in a steady beat. Amari’s breathing slows and Asra can feel his eyes growing heavy. He hadn’t traveled far, barely past Nopal, and nowhere particularly strenuous, but he finds himself drifting all the same. Probably more to do with the soft body wrapped around his and the soothing sound of rain than any true tiredness.

He doesn’t mind.

“M’fallin’ asleep.”

Amari’s voice is so low he barely hears it and so jumbled it takes him a bit to sort out the words.

“Sleep.”

They say something else, but it’s just content, sleepy mumbles, so he strokes their back until they go fully lax. He lets his eyes slide shut.

They’re both still in their clothes and, in the morning, it’d be a coin’s toss to determine who was more flustered at the intimacy of sharing a bed, tangled up together. Even if it wasn’t the first time—not even _close_ —and even if each time they both pretended to be asleep just a little longer.

But holding them like this, with every inch of Amari’s body pressed to his, feels far too right for Asra to do anything to make it stop. Tomorrow’s worries can wait, when they’re together.


End file.
